The Whole Sort of General MishMash
by Ssorian
Summary: The story after the story... Picks up soon after Mostly Harmless. Hilariously true to the world of Hitchhikers...
1. Chapter 1

The Whole Sort of General Mish-Mash

Chapter 1

Brant Jorbis sat down heavily… for his was the sort of situation that would persuade a fine young ape descendent, such as he, to sit down heavily… on their bottom… I have decided to include this tidbit of information, as recent scientific studies have shown life forms existing outside the infamous Plural Zones without bottoms on which to sit that would, when reading this, be absolutely muddled onto which part of the body is to be sat down heavily upon, and what is this sitting business anyway? For those without bottoms to sit on generally have nothing to sit on, so therefore can't sit and just generally float about in the Whole Sort of General Mish-Mash poking fun at random specks of space dust… which, when done properly, can be generally boring… So why bother with them anyway?

Luckily, Brant wasn't one of those floating bored bottomless life forms, or he would have had quite a difficult time trying to sit down heavily on his bottom. For the simple reason he wouldn't have one… but he did, so he went right ahead and sat down on it anyway, quite heavily I might add.

He needed a good sit. Some of the best things in life happen to one while sitting, such as bowel movements. But the immense pleasures of a good bowel movement couldn't have made Brant's sort of situation any better. What might have made Brant's sort of situation any better were the immense pleasure derived from a good package of biscuits and a cup of tea… But there weren't any such things in the immediate area Brant had picked to sit down heavily on his bottom within.

The immediate area he had chosen happened to be the pilots seat of his sleekly invisible Omnigland spaceship. It had cost him a fortune. He had no idea what had compelled him to pay so much for pure air when it was free for the taking on most planets, but he had. And that's exactly what the Omnigland was. The Omnitech Corporation had developed it shortly before they had mysteriously disappeared never to be seen again. The technology involved a huge dome that compressed air molecules tightly together into a given shape… That shape, in Brant's case, was a sleek spaceship that, being made of oxygen and all the other airy type gases, was invisible…

Brant enjoyed flying low over simple worlds where simple people would simply look up and see him and his simple Omnigland spaceship… Or rather, they'd see Brant, as his spaceship was quite invisible, simply soaring through the sky in a simple sitting position simply beaming down upon them.

Sadly the desolate planet Brant now sat heavily before was not one of the simple worlds… but his own… home world… or what was left of it… The once greenish bluish sparkling beautiful planet of Grebulon… was bare and dead… What had happened? He knew what had happened…

At the ripe age of fifteen he had gotten fed up with Grebulon's idiot population, which in recent years had grown into enormous proportions, and had hot wired the nearest sports ship and found his way off the planet.

He had spent two wonderful years traveling the universe alone. Well he was never alone. He had his copy of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy that went with him wherever he decided to roam. He had acquired the Guide when he arrived at the other end of a rather colorful worm hole inside of a giant space goat that had swallowed him whole shortly after leaving Grebulon. Apparently the goat had gotten lost on its way to the giant goat world of Pasturean, and was hungry enough to eat a planet… it settled for a small sports ship instead.

The worm hole had led, strangely enough, right outside of the merchant world of Festioval IV, where he sold his sports ship. He was going to use the money to buy a burger, but he didn't have enough, so he settled for the first thing that caught his eye. That silvery sleek book, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy just happened to be the thing. What he particularly liked about this book was the large friendly words Don't Panic on the back… Come to think of it, he would have particularly liked to have had the Guide inside the goat, for he had certainly panicked… Which had led to some embarrassing memories, that, if he had been reminded not to panic, would never had happened. But they did. So no use sitting down heavily over it.

And he didn't. He sat down heavily over the fact that only two years previously Grebulon had been flourishing and populated with idiots… but now… it, well,… wasn't. It wasn't populated period. Apparently in leaving, he took away the future of Grebulon. That was cool… sort of… But now where would he find a burger? Or get his telephone cleaned?

He guessed those idiots just couldn't survive without him. Good for them. Now what? No, he'd been there… not a very pleasant place… He'd talked to the local Boghog's and they agreed, and he had the scar to prove it.

He sat and pondered. He tended to do that increasingly often, as the guide wasn't much help anymore. It's once extravagant and helpful articles weren't so much as extravagant… or helpful since it had apparently gone under new management…

So he was forced to, after sitting heavily, ponder instead of looking it up in his not so trusty anymore Guide…

Perhaps he had arrived too soon… that could easily be explained by the giant goat thing… The wormhole had been one of those fancy modern space/time worm holes instead of one of the good old fashioned wormholes hat led you straight to the one place you didn't want to be… If it had been one of those, it would have dumped him right back on Grebulon instead of Festioval IV, where it had obviously dumped him instead…

Or maybe he really had been dumped back on Grebulon and had just imagined the past two years… Surely the force of the fall would have knocked him into a coma, and he's probably lying in some hospital right now surrounded by those babbling idiots.

Yup, that was definitely where he was. It even explained his massive headache… Of course, it could have also been the PanGalactic GargleBlaster he had consumed at the last space port, but if he was imagining it, it couldn't have been the drink, so it must be the coma.

He wondered if his uncle with the rubber duck remembered to bring him flowers. He sniffed. He didn't smell any flowers, so the obvious answer was no…

What he did smell was the scent of mocha. 'Ding'. Oh good, his Autolizer had remembered his 5:30 mocha. He picked it up out of its invisible slot, and spilled it over the control panel, as his hand bumped the invisible stick shift. So much for that…

Okay, so maybe he hadn't imagined it all… He couldn't assume he had until presented with sufficient evidence. So, what should he do in his present predicament assuming present predicament was, in fact, his present predicament.

Simple, if he had, in fact, gone too far backwards in time, all he would have to do would be to go down onto the planet and wait for life to develop and evolve, and in a few millinia Grebulon would be back to normal…

So, that's exactly what he did… or rather… tried to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The deep black nothingness of space fell away as the deep black somethingness of Grebulon grew closer and closer as Brant and his Omnigland spaceship flared into the planets atmosphere. The ship slowly dropped out of the sky and landed in a cloud of ashy black dust with a 'pfffft'.

Brant surveyed the scene around him… Now it was quite obvious he had not wound up in the past… It was obvious for two reasons. One was the charred remains of a burger joint he had touched down near… and the second was small and furry… or… it had been small and furry… Now it was small and decaying… and Brant had landed directly on top of it.

He looked down through his invisible ship at the once small and furry second reason that made it quite obvious he had not wound up in the past. It twitched… or it might have twitched, if it weren't already dead…

So if this wasn't the past, then… 'ding'… The second batch of mocha, that was always made in the unlikely assumption that he'd spill the first, was ready. He reached for it, and pulled it out of the invisible slot… and spilled it in the exact same way he'd spilled the first.

He'd have to get that stick shift moved… or trade in the ship for an Omnigland with hydraulics. Not that hydraulics would help his mocha problems… but he just really liked the idea of having an invisible ship with hydraulics…

Brant whipped out his copy of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. It was worth a try. He took a moment to relish in the shear wisdom and intellectual meanings of those two little words, Don't Panic, then flipped it open.

The familiar opening screen flashed on… Brant took a deep breath… hoping against all hope…

"Grebulon."

… The Guide whirred. It actually whirred! And then, a box popped-up… Brant looked into it… at the very top, written in tiny print… 'See: _Dead Planets_.'

Well, that was that. He closed the guide… and tried not to panic… He really did… But in the end… he panicked.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The deep black somethingness of Grebulon fell away as the deep black nothingness of space grew closer and closer as Brant and his Omnigland spaceship flared out of the planets atmosphere…

Brant had no idea what to do, or where to go now. His planet was dead… which had been confirmed by the oddly helpful cross reference in the Guide… and the Guide was usually, but ,as just proven, not always unhelpful.

He really should complain to someone about that… but when he looked up complaining to someone to someone about when the Guide was usually, but not always, unhelpful, it just came up saying 'see: _ Vogon Department of Complaints_.', which was strange in two aspects.

For one, usually the Guide said to avoid Vogons at all costs, and two, when he gave in and actually saw the Vogon Department of Complaints, it said 'see: _Complaining to Someone About When the Guide Is Usually, But Not Always, Unhelpful_.'… He panicked again…

He was about to shut his guide when… 'ding'… He didn't remember programming the mocha machine for a third batch of mocha… That was because he hadn't.

The Guide had just done something it had never done before… It had 'ding'ed. And in the act of 'ding'eding, it had produced another pop-up box. In it he read something that was, for once in nearly a month actually, helpful.

It simply gave an address. An address that just happened to be the address of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy Headquarters, Complaints Department.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of Brant Jorbis, 'see: _Mentally Challenged Ducks_.'


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of _Mentally Challenged Ducks_, 'see: _Brant Jorbis_, see: _Fleecewing_, see: '_Fleecewing: The Story of a Mentally Challenged Duck_, and/or see: _Major Motion Pictures_.'


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Brant was bored… not to say he was bored as bottomless floating life-forms, or random bits of space dust… but he was close.

Usually when Brant neared this particular level of boredom, level forty-one last time he checked the bordometer, he would drown himself in the immense pleasures presented by a good bowel movement… but last time he tried that, he got a few nasty looks from passersby as he sat heavily and strained on his invisible toilet…

So he had resorted to drowning himself in the immense pleasurable pain presented by a good Pan Galactic Gargleblaster… or he would… but he had already spent hours searching for his invisible Pan-galactic Gargleblaster machine… to come to the discerning conclusion that he didn't have one…

So he would resort to drowning himself in the immense pleasures presented by looking up random things in the guide… or he would… but cross references just didn't provide as immense a pleasure… or it wouldn't…

But he tried it anyway… and discovered they were obviously making a major motion picture about him… He wondered if it was playing in whatever time period he wound up in, and looked it up…

"See: 'Major Motion Picture Listing Headquarters'"… and it gave another address…

What the heck, it was on the way…


	7. Authors Note

Authors Note

Sorry guys, but there won't be any further chapters until I get some reviews! I'm working hard on these stories, and I want to know how many of you appreciate it. Okay? Thanks! Ssorian!


	8. Review of the Story So Far

Review of the Story So Far

Arthur Dent: I quite liked it… especially the bit involving the tea and biscuits.

Zaphod Beeblebrox: It needs more… y'know… me in it! If you catch what I'm saying… Right… me… Cuz, y'know, after all, I _am_ the most important person in the universe!

Marvin: I hated every bit of it… especially the bit involving the tea and biscuits… I'd about had enough about tea with that sorry excuse for an ape descendent… and then you come along and toss biscuits in too… "Why not?" you ask… "Not like there's an underappreciated android somewhere that might take offense from it?"… Am I by any chance boring you?

Arthur Dent: Well… Marvin… quite frankly…

Zaphod Beeblebrox: Yeah, ya are.

Marvin: Because I wouldn't want to bore you… That would be even more depressing than it already is, and let me tell you, it's already quite depressing…

Zaphod Beeblebrox: Hey, Marvin? Um… weren't you like… dead… or something… at the end of…

Marvin: Oh… right… I'm dead… Isn't that so depressing?

Arthur Dent: … If your dead, then…

(Marvin disappears in a puff of logic)

Zaphod Beeblebrox: Hey look… Pretty colors…

Arthur Dent: Well then… Never mind.


End file.
